


A Cat on Hot Bricks

by neonstardust



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Anxiety Attacks, Balisong Knives, Butterfly Knives, Cat Ears, Cat Sith Kuroo Tetsurou, Cat Witch Kuroo Tetsurou, Cat/Human Hybrids, Don't Let The Tags Fool You This Is Safe For Work, HQ Monster Lovin Weekend, HQ Monster Lovin Weekend 2020, Half-Phoenix Hinata Shouyou, Healthy Anxiety Coping Techniques With Yachi Hitoka, Human/Monster Romance, Is This Platonic? Is This Romantic? The Answer Is Yes, Knives, Mind Break, Panic Attacks, There Are Knives But No One Is Harmed And Everyone Lives, Tokyo Training Camp Arc (Haikyuu), Training Camp, Vampire Kozume Kenma, Yachi Hitoka-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:21:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27337096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neonstardust/pseuds/neonstardust
Summary: Kuroo Tetsurou is not stressed. He is handsome, charming, and a master at provocation. He will destroy Karasuno at Nationals. He is going to graduate his senior year with top marks. He will... What comes after that?In which, Kuroo has anxiety over his future, and Yachi reminds him to enjoy the present.
Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou & Yachi Hitoka, Kuroo Tetsurou/Yachi Hitoka
Comments: 6
Kudos: 57
Collections: An Asexual's Guide to Monster Lovin Weekend: Because Maybe Hot Monsters want to be Called Beautiful Monsters Just One Time





	A Cat on Hot Bricks

**Author's Note:**

> HQ Monster Lovin' Weekend - Prompt: Mind Break
> 
> P.S., a cat sìth is a Celtic witch believed to be capable of transforming between human form and cat form nine times, after which they are destined to remain a cat forever.

The sky blushes with the first light of dawn. A chill lingers in the air, and morning dew clings to the grass, soaking his shoes. Fog hugs the ground. Leaves crunching wetly beneath his sneakers, Kuroo climbs the steps to the gym. The sand of sleep blurs his vision, and he rubs his eyes with a yawn.

He likes this time of morning. There’s a peacefulness that can be found hidden in the solitude of being the first one up, watching the world wake around him, but he doesn’t have the coffee he needs to appreciate it. That’s the trouble with training camps.

Still, someone has to get things ready for the others. Fumbling with the keys, he unlocks the gym doors. The coaches set up breakfast, but it wouldn’t hurt for him to pitch in with the prep work. Taketora will be up soon for his morning run; Kuroo can ask him to help out when he gets back.

A strange emptiness fills the gym. Shadows cast the floor in early dusk, and the air stales. Maybe that’s why it feels harder to breathe.

This will be his last year here. Next term, Taketora and Fukunaga will have to take up the mantle and run the training camps. Kenma will sleep until he’s dragged out of bed kicking and complaining.

Kenma will be alone. Kuroo wonders who will watch over him. He shakes his head; Kenma will be a third-year. Even now, he can already handle himself, but the worry persists. No one will be there to take the train with Kenma. Kuroo won’t be there to ensure he wears his vampire-strength sunscreen. No one will be there to yell at Lev for shirking his receive practice, and Shibayama won’t have anyone to remind him to breathe when he gets stressed out.

It’s a void of uncertainty. It builds in his chest, spilling out into the shadows of the gym. Breathing is even harder now, and he realizes his head feels light.

Stupid. He knows better than to get worked up over little things. The team has his number for when they need his help, now or a year from now.

If they ever need him.

If he doesn’t fade from their minds like a waking dream.

Kuroo doesn’t even know where he’s going to be a year from now. His career essay is still sitting blank in his backpack. The reminder on his phone to start his college applications has been rescheduled fourteen times. Hands sweaty, he reaches for his phone to check it now, but he left it in the classroom in his sleeping bag.

That’s fine. It’s not like he needs it. It’s not like having it would solve these non-existent problems, because they’re not _real_ problems. Not like Kenma’s lack of vegetables that’s going to wreck his immune system or Sawamura’s tight schedule to turn his inexperienced team into an actual team capable of reaching nationals or the declining health of Shibayama’s pet hamster. Kuroo’s just being overdramatic again. He thought he would have grown out of that habit by now. He thought by now he would have gotten his life together or flattened his hair or learned to make his own doctor’s appointments instead of pitifully asking Kenma’s mom to schedule them for him like an overgrown toddler or—

“Kuroo-san?”

Kuroo jumps. His heart tries to leap out of his throat, and he swallows hard.

The younger Karasuno manager is staring at him. How long has she been there? What time is it? Dammit, he’s late. What was he thinking? No, that doesn’t matter. He shouldn’t have been wasting his time thinking about stupid things to begin with. He should know better.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He tries to laugh, but it comes out as a shaky exhale. He hadn’t realized his breathing was so shallow, but now he can feel his lungs rapidly heaving, nearly going as fast as his heart. His whole chest is burning, in fact. Stabbing pains cluster around his abdomen, twisting his stomach.

Damn. He can’t remember what she said. Was he supposed to answer? Staring at her face, he tries to recall her name.

“Um, are you okay?” She leans forward. Blonde hair drifts around her shoulders as she tilts her head to look up at him.

He swallows again, but his mouth is dry. He wishes she weren’t looking at him. He has nowhere to hide like this. Shoulders tensing up, he curses himself for wanting to hide, even as he turns away from her.

Why is he losing control like this? He hasn’t had one of these episodes in months. Damn it. He bites his lip hard, but everything feels numb.

“Kuroo-san,” she says again. Her voice is softer now. Forcing himself to look at her, he finds her covering her eyes with her hands. “I saw vending machines on the way over. Would you, um, like something?”

The words sluggishly reach his brain like they’re being channeled through a sieve. She’s offering to get him a snack. Just the thought makes his nausea worse. He must look so pitiful right now for a first-year to be offering to buy him things.

“A drink might be best,” she clarifies. “I like hot tea when I want a distraction. Having something in your hands that’s a different temperature... I don’t know. I just think it’s a bit easier to focus on that than on the voices in my head.”

Kuroo can’t even feel his hands. He doesn’t like this. It needs to end now. Hell, he’ll buy an entire pot of coffee if that’s what he needs to snap out of it, but he can only nod, his voice long since having abandoned him.

She smiles. “I’m Yachi Hitoka, by the way,” she says. Hands still over her eyes, she takes careful steps, feeling her way down the stairs with her foot before moving forward.

Kuroo follows behind her. His legs feel like an anthill in a driveway, heavy and tingly and wrong. He’s almost glad for her slow pace.

The scenery he normally enjoys blurs from one shade of gray to another, and then he’s sitting on a bench, not quite sure how he got there. He can’t tell if this is better or worse. His head is so light, he feels like the next gust of wind will blow him clean over.

“There’s not a lot of options. I’m sorry.” Yachi pushes a button, and the machine rattles. “Do you like milk?”

Kuroo makes a sound that is neither positive nor negative. A moment later, Yachi holds out two drinks, and he blindly takes the nearest one.

“My classmate, Kageyama-kun, likes milk,” she muses. Sitting on the bench a healthy distance away from him, she kicks her feet back and forth. “I think he and Tsukishima-kun could bond over the strawberry flavored milk sometime, but Tsukishima-kun never seems to buy any at the same time as Kageyama-kun.”

That sounds like something Tsukishima would do. Kuroo manages a semblance of a snort at the thought of Tsukishima going out of his way to never have the same drink as Kageyama.

Yachi smiles at the sky.

He watches the sky, too. It’s getting late. He should be doing productive things, not wasting his time feeling sorry for himself, but just the thought of heading back floods him with discomfort. It’s almost scary. Kuroo closes his eyes. No, it _is_ scary. He’s afraid, so afraid it seeps into his lungs like winter snow and freezes everything inside him.

The drink in his hands is a different kind of cold, physical and real. Gripping it tight, he tries to focus on breathing.

“Kiyoko-senpai makes the best earl grey tea,” Yachi continues. “I can ask her to make a little extra tonight, if you’d like.” Sipping her own drink, she lets out a content sigh. “I want to make tea like that one day. I don’t know how she does it.”

Distant thoughts bubble just below the surface of his awareness. The temperature of the water, the freshness of the ingredients, the duration the leaves are seeped: those factors all come together to make a perfect cup of tea. Forcing down a deep breath, he mumbles, “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Oh.” She starts digging through her purse. She must’ve been on the way to the bathroom, Kuroo realizes as he watches her pull out a hairbrush and a washcloth. A toothbrush in a travel case follows. Pushing aside what must be toothpaste, she says, “Aha.”

Kuroo looks at the item in her hand, his brow wrinkling. It looks like a sponge.

“I like to hold them when I’m upset,” Yachi says. “It’s for makeup, but it’s very soft.” She rolls it between her fingers. On the bottom of the teardrop shape, a strip of violet shines. “I think this part is silicone,” she explains. “Would you like to hold it?”

Kuroo doesn’t see how a makeup sponge is supposed to help him feel better, but he holds out his hand nonetheless.

The material squishes when he squeezes it, like an oddly shaped stress ball. The silicone smoothes coolly beneath his fingers, and he slides his thumb over it, admiring the change in texture. It’s nice. He might like this after all.

Careful of his claws, he squeezes the sponge a few times. “Thanks,” he mumbles again. “Sorry to hold you up.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” she says quickly. “I’m actually early. I couldn’t sleep. Hinata-kun wakes up at dawn every day, you see. It’s a phoenix thing. He says he can hear the sun dogs barking.” Leaning back against the bench, she watches the clouds drift above them. “I’ve never seen the sun dogs myself, but I had no idea they could bark.”

His mind feels lethargic. The silence drags on too long before he manages to say, “Me either.”

It reminds him of something else he’d forgotten: Yachi is human. The rest of Karasuno is a team of dormant monsters from their half-cyclops ace to the succubus third-year manager. They’re a powerhouse waiting to rise.

A cat sìth like himself must pale in comparison to the things she’s witnessed. Kuroo’s eyes still burn each time he sees Hinata rise through the air on flaming wings, spiking the ball like an avenging angel. Meanwhile all Kuroo has to show for himself is a strange white spot on his chest and three used up cat transformations.

“I like mornings like this,” Yachi says. “It’s so calm and pretty. It’s like magic.”

Slouching down on the bench, he lets his head dangle back. She’s right. The sun is slowly rising, warming their skin, and the first birds have begun to sing. Breathing is easier out here.

Still, he has more important things to be doing. He should know better than to laze about sunbathing by now. He’s not in his cat form. He, for all intents and purposes, is a human like Yachi, and with this form comes responsibilities he can’t ignore.

Responsibilities he’s been putting off for weeks now.

Kuroo drags a hand over his face. No, he’s not “putting them off.” He’s _prioritizing_. It’s very adult of him. He can’t control the fact that making a doctor’s appointment and picking a college are lower priorities than making sure Kenma has more than just a bag of blood to eat each day. Volleyball is also a top precedent. And staring at his ceiling for two hours ignoring his career essay due date. He sighs.

Lowering his hand, he finds Yachi looking at him curiously. “What?” he asks.

She turns away, face red. “I’m sorry.” Scratching her cheek, she mumbles, “I’m supposed to be distracting you, but I got distracted myself.”

Kuroo tenses. “By what?”

Yachi fiddles with her hair. It’s a motion Kuroo’s familiar with—something he’s seen Kenma do a million times when he’s embarrassed and wants to hide from the world. “I just, uh, I thought your ears look soft. I’m sorry.”

Ears? Kuroo blinks. Without thinking, he reaches up and touches his ear. Black fur tickles his fingers.

Yachi watches with rapt curiosity.

“Soft,” he concedes. His face feels warm. Awkwardly, he drops his hand back to his lap.

“So cool,” she whispers.

Kuroo stares down at his drink. He must have misheard her. Having cat ears has been nothing but a source of anxiety since he first took human form. With each transformation, more of his cat characteristics linger. First his tail, then his claws. If he tries again, he’ll probably end up with permanent cat teeth. Eventually, he’ll be reduced to nothing more than an average house cat.

It makes something in his chest ache. He can’t see the point in planning for a future that ends in four legs and a litter box.

He shakes his head. Stupid. He can worry about that later. He has stuff to do.

So why does the thought of going back to the gym make his throat close up all over again?

The school gates rattle in the distance. That must be Taketora out for his run; it’s later than Kuroo thought.

Yachi seems to realize it, too. Standing, she brushes off her skirt. “Do you want to go for a walk?” she asks.

Kuroo stares. He waits for her to say she’s wasted enough time on him, but the words don’t come. “Huh?”

“You don’t have to,” she adds quickly. “I, um, thought moving around might make you feel better.” Walking to the trashcan, she throws away her empty drink. “You’re always so busy every time I see you. You work very hard,” she says, “so I thought moving around would take your mind off things.”

“Why are you doing this?” The words come forward on their own. Standing, he clears his throat. “I’m fine. You don’t have to feel sorry for me.” He pulls on his best condescending smile. “Why don’t you save the cute pity act for your team when we destroy them in practice today, hmm?”

She takes a step back. Something flashes through her eyes.

Fear. He’s scaring her. Face falling, he holds up his hands. “Hey, wait.” He looks around for help, but the other Karasuno members haven’t come outside yet. “I’m not gonna do anything,” he says.

Damn. He forgot how easily startled humans can be. So few of them play sports due to their weaker constitutions; Kuroo can’t think of any humans he knows beside a few nameless faces he passes in the cafeteria.

“Sorry,” she squeaks. Chuckling awkwardly, she stuffs something inside her purse.

Kuroo blinks. A knife. She stuck a knife in her purse. Where did that even come from? He looks around, lost. Who allowed this frightened child to have a knife?

Thinking back, he saw it before, too. He had thought it was a toothbrush case, but it’s actually a knife sheath. That cannot be safe.

It’s then he realizes he’s still holding the makeup brush, and he stiffly offers it to her.

Yachi takes it with a smile. “You can borrow it again if you like. I have a few. My mom gets them for free at work.” She delicately tucks it into her purse, right beside the knife.

Kuroo wonders what other secrets she has in there. He chuckles. This is ridiculous. How did she become the scarier person here?

She laughs, too, nervously, and he cracks a smile. “What is that thing?” he asks.

“The makeup sponge?” She tilts her head. “They call it an applicator.”

“Nope.” He holds up three fingers. “I’ll give you three more guesses.”

A scarlet blush burns across her face. “Oh... You mean _that_.”

He quirks an eyebrow, waiting. He’ll let the subject drop if she’s uncomfortable; something tells him Yachi is a master at changing the subject when she wants to be, even if she isn’t the subtle type.

Instead, she fidgets with the clasp on her purse for a moment before opening it up. “It’s a, um, butterfly knife,” she mumbles.

The name suits it, he thinks. It’s the girliest knife he’s ever seen. Pink and black dot the handle. Even the case has little kitten stickers decorating the cover.

The blade looks real enough though. Chewing his lip, he asks, “Do you know how to use that?”

Yachi doesn’t answer. Silently, she sets her purse down and takes a step back. The knife itself appears to have a split handle, and she closes it up like a pair of pliers, balancing it carefully in her palm.

The blade gleams. In a flash, she’s flipped it open. The knife twirls precariously around her wrist. Flipping it with her thumb, she throws it into the air, catching it with her left hand.

Kuroo jumps back.

“Sorry,” she exclaims. In her hand, the knife keeps moving, twisting and whirling. It moves as seamlessly as if she were just twirling a pencil between two fingers. “It’s perfectly safe. I didn’t mean to surprise you,” she says.

It’s like watching a magic trick. She does it so fast he can’t comprehend the motions between the movements. One second, it’s in her right palm, and the next it’s been flipped into the air, around her shoulders, and she catches it between two fingers.

Kuroo can just imagine the cuts and bruises he’d get trying to do that. “How is that not scaring the hell out of you?” he asks.

“Oh, um... Hmm.” She flips it around her fingers like it’s nothing more than a yo-yo trick. “It does. I mean, it did. No, I mean, it still does.” She passes it beneath her wrist. “Not like it used to, though.” A shadow crosses her face, and she mutters, “I cried the entire first week of my lessons.”

With a flourish, she flips the knife shut. “It gets easier with practice,” she says. “I don’t think about it anymore because if I think about it, I get scared that I’ll cut off my fingers and die of a major hemorrhage and when I’m found they’ll think I died of a paper cut and I’ll go down in history as the dumb girl who died of a paper cut doing butterfly knife tricks.”

Kuroo doesn’t think she breathed at all during that sentence. Hell, he doesn’t think he’s had any oxygen either since she first flipped the knife open. Staring at her dumbly, his chest burning, he can only smile in disbelief.

Yachi looks away, scratching at her cheek. “An-anyway, I’m not that good. I still have a lot to learn. You’re supposed to use two, and I, I can only use one.” She fidgets with the handle, opening and closing it. “My mom wanted me to learn self-defense,” she says softly. “I wasn’t strong enough, so I thought maybe if I learned something that was flashy enough to look scary, maybe that would make up for me being weak.”

Kuroo reaches out and pats her head.

“Huh?” She looks up at him.

“You’re amazing,” he says.

She blinks, her lips parting. A pink blush spreads across her cheeks, quickly darkening to scarlet.

Kuroo yanks his hand back. That is not the reaction he’s used to. Kenma complains, and Yaku threatens him with murder. He’s even gotten the tiniest of blushes from Fukunaga and Shibayama, but this is something else entirely. He’s not remotely prepared for something this adorable.

“So, uh, a walk then?” he asks.

“Yeah.” Jerkily, she grabs her purse and runs ahead of him.

Kuroo looks from her to the gym. His heart is still beating too fast from the head pat incident that he’s going to be thinking about all day now, and thinking of how late he is only makes it worse.

“Are you okay, Kuroo-san?” Yachi turns back to check on him.

“Yeah.” The word leaves his throat dry. His feet don’t move.

Yachi chances taking a few steps closer to him. “Um, about before,” she says. Tapping the toe of her shoe against the ground, she thinks over her words for a moment. “I don’t feel sorry for you.” Glancing up at him, she says, “I like how you’re always there for everyone, even Tsukishima-kun. And, um, that’s why I want to be here for you when you need someone.” Voice bordering on bitter, she says, “I can’t do much.” She looks away. “That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try my best and lend a listening ear when you need it... I mean, if you want it.”

Kuroo’s eyes widen. He clutches his chest, but there’s no knife there. The warmth he feels is strictly inside his heart, burning bright. Shaking his head, he mutters, “Say things like that, and I’ll have to get down on one knee and ask you to be Nekoma’s manager instead.”

Yachi giggles. “I couldn’t do that, but I guess it doesn’t hurt to cheer for you whenever you’re battling teams other than Karasuno.”

He holds out his hand. “Deal.”

Tentatively, she shakes his hand. Her fingers hardly close around his. She’s so tiny, but her skin is soft and warm. It reignites the fuzzy feeling in his chest.

“Sir!” Shibayama waves his arms. “Good morning!”

Beside him, Inuoka flashes a peace sign. “We set up the gym for you.”

Kuroo stills. “What?”

Kai walks over next, Kenma dragging his feet behind him. “Breakfast is almost ready, guys.” He nudges Shibayama toward the cafeteria. With a smile, he waves at Kuroo. “Don’t take too long,” he says. “Fukunaga woke up early to make us a special ‘breakfast banquet.’”

Kuroo stares, mouth open. “You guys...”

Yachi squeezes his hand. “That sounds great.” Smiling up at him, she asks, “Do you want to go now, or should we take the long way?” She nods her head at the detour they’d been about to take.

Closing his eyes, Kuroo takes a deep breath. It’s been a while since his last anxiety episode. They always leave him feeling afraid and ruined, like his mind is broken, but the gym is his second home. No matter how uncertain the future may be, this is the last place he ever needs to fear.

Squeezing Yachi’s hand, he gives her a lopsided grin. “C’mon. Let me show you how superior Nekoma’s cooking skills are to Karasuno.”

“You’re not still trying to steal me away to be your manager, are you?” she asks.

“Of course I am.” He gestures around the school campus. “With my expert provocation skills and your master distraction skills, Nekoma will be unstoppable.”

Yachi laughs. “Why don’t you just text me any time you need a distraction instead?”

Kuroo smiles. Their hands swing loosely between them as they walk down the path together, fingers interlocked. Taking a clear, easy breath, he says, “Deal.”


End file.
